


After the Flames

by Buckwild



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Support, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 02:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buckwild/pseuds/Buckwild
Summary: Fareeha and Angela come back home after an exahusting mission.





	After the Flames

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally posting this fanfic. I'm trying to get back to AO3, though posting anything is always a scary thing to do.

After a long summer day, the freshness of the night is more than welcome. Fareeha is still wearing the same clothes she’s had on since they got back: A light, white blouse and some old jean shorts. Almost every outfit she owns is worn out.

Her tiny apartment has changed so much since Angela is there. It is not the appearance, or even the rules that apply, but the place’s aura that feels different. Pharah has found herself thinking it feels like family, like home, even with the sorrow that always haunts them after a mission. When she arrives now and she finds her partner asleep in the couch, the younger woman takes it as a confirmation of her thoughts. Putting the groceries aside, Fareeha decides to wake Angela up with a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“Hey there.”

“Oh, you’re home already,” still sleepy, Mercy leans in for another kiss, accidentally bumping into Fareeha’s face, “gosh, sorry!”

“Eh, close enough,” Pharah laughs a bit, more charmed than anything.

These little things do give her some hope. Even though they’ve hardly left each other’s side, few words have been exchanged. They’ve been too lost on their thoughts, sulking away. It’s always like this when work's done, but it’s the first time they come together to the house after it. 

Fareeha mindlessly scratches the bandages on her shoulder. Mercy lifts her head and gives her a quick glance, too quick for anyone to pick up on their heavy meaning. Pharah isn’t a common person when it comes to this, however; her eyes have not been marked with the sign of Horus for no reason.

“How was your day?”, Angela mumbles, tying back her hair. “Anything new under the sun?”

“Well, supermarket adventures aside,” Fareeha sighs, then smiles, “I saw a huge dog today. Black bandana, brown eyes, the good stuff”.

“Did you take a picture?”

“I respect the boundaries of all creatures, Angela. I would not do that without permission”.

Mercy chuckles for a second too long. By the end of it, the laugh has turned into a sad and weak sound.

It’s always like this.

“Do you want to cook tonight?” Pharah says, in an attempt to bring her back from the fog.

“That sounds good, actually,” Angela answers, much to her surprise, “I’m gonna take care of it. You must be tired.”

And with that Mercy gets on her feet, and it’s like the few days of ruminating have not fazed her. She moves with the same grace as always, her beauty not tainted by her exhaustion. As Angela works on the kitchen, Fareeha takes her shirt off and checks her injured shoulder. Maybe it’s time to replace the bandages again.

“How’s the shoulder going?” Angela asks absentmindedly as she cuts some onions.

“It’s a lot better actually. It’s amazing what modern medicine can do”.

“Call me old fashioned, dear, but I’d still recommend taking it easy”.

“There’s no time for rest when you’re young and wild”.

Mercy lets out another of those deflated laughs, punctuating it with a sharp hit of the knife against the cutting table. 

“You are the opposite of wild, my dear”.

“…”

“…”

“I’m offended”.

A shared smirk, and they go back to their tasks. It’s always a spectacle to see Angela work. She glows so warmly when she’s busy with something she loves, it’s impossible for Fareeha not to get warm and fuzzy too. Her eyes focus on Angela’s hips, the way they gently move as she hops around the kitchen. The apron looks so good on her. 

“I hope you’re hungry”

God, she’s making too much stew. Way too much. Fareeha’s going to eat it all anyways, it doesn’t matter. 

“I am”, Fareeha is still staring, and the words come out low and ravenous. Mercy turns around to face her, flustered and biting her lip in an effort to contain her laughter.

“You’re an absolute embarrassment, Fareeha”.

“Oh, totally. Want me to make it worse?”

“Yes”.

“I think I have a crush on you”.

Angela puts the knife down and lowers her head. Fareeha tenses up for a moment, waiting for a reaction; something witty, even something angry. What she gets instead startles her a bit.

“…I am so glad we’re together on this”

The soldier’s eyes go wide. Her hand reaches out at nothing; Angela has not lifted her eyes from the boiling pot. Fareeha puts back her leather jacket, then grabs her shoulder once again. 

“Angela, may I ask you something?”

“Shoot away”.

“Are you feeling well?”

Angela smiles sweetly, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Well dear, of course I’m not, but we keep living anyway.”


End file.
